


Sexy

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, Humor, M/M, Mutual Sex, Sexual Humor, Sexual Rubbing, awkward sexual situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yin Yang wakes up next to Gunnar...you know the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexy

**Author's Note:**

> Well, i've uploaded this first on FFnet & it's now here after i give a one month warning that i'll be deleting it on FFnet, because...it's not 'Teen-rated'.  
> You'll see what i mean, excuse it's shittyness, i wrote this because i was sleepy & unsatisfied with my first 'Expendables'-fic.  
> Originally posted 9/3/12

Everyone agreed on one thing: Gunnar snored like a bullhorn, and it came as no surprise that they all couldn’t plug their ears or break camp for a full night’s sleep. On watch next to the equipment and monitors happened to be their also tech-savvy hand to hand expert, he carefully put down a blanket and pulled off his gear, but leaving on his white undershirt and cargos as he yawned, crossing his left arm under his head and right splayed over his waist. Deep sleep claimed him, until something roared right into his left ear, eyes snapping open, he came face to chin with no noisier a sleeper, Gunnar Jensen. Completely awake and half of his body numb, Yin Yang wiggled around under his snoozing too tall teammate, Gunnar only groaned and wrapped his leg around the smaller form. 

Yin Yang huffed, he pushed at the chest pressed to his cheek, the Swedish team member only enclosed an arm around his back and squeezed him closer. He entertained the thought of kneeing the man in the family jewels, but he promised himself long ago that every fight he engaged in would be equal if not evenhanded, but that did not at all help with the hand kneading between his shoulder blades. He melted into the form only for a split second, the pleasant body heat and arm inviting him to stay within for the night, but it was so wrong he resolved, he was comfortable with Gunnar watching his back but not being closer than gun barrel-distance. Far from the state of being relaxed, he squirmed and shoved uselessly at the body, the Swede yanked him back until he lay wrapped in all but his own limbs. 

Yin Yang wriggled, he was glad they were both behind a waist-high barricade of boxed and stacked equipment, in case some one cracked open an eye and saw him in a blonde grizzly’s grasp, he shouted quietly, “Gunnar!” 

“Gunnar!” he attempted a little louder, only earning a cough and resume in the throat-nose yodel booming above his head as he whispered, “You jumbo GI, move!” 

“Count the sheep, Bo Peep, and you’ll drop right …back …off …to-” the sleeping teammate grumbled and continued braying, the Asian counterpart realized that the man never shut up and was more vocal when they were supposed to rest. 

Yin Yang wondered how Any woman could stand this, they maybe took off running the second Gunnar started counting Zs, he tried sidestepping the thought of shouting or again, kicking Gunnar’s package, lest he grab the wrong attention and never live this incident down. 

“Baby, you’re killing me,” Gunnar mumbled against his head, the large hand traveling up his knee and resting on his crotch, the large fingers experimentally squeezing and forcefully tugging. 

Not one to go down quietly without a streak of defiance, he rolled them both over until he leaned over the sleeping form, his hands pinning the limp prone arms above their heads, without a second thought, Yin Yang licked a salty ribbon of skin, his tongue dipping over flexing cords of muscle in Gunnar’s neck, his lips passing over a fluttering pulse and ending under a lock of tossed blonde hair. He realized the oddity of their situation, his drive to put Gunnar back in line and Gunnar’s epic efforts to provoke him, as if he Wanted to have his ass kicked any chance they were both free. But they both put up a good show for the boys, throwing punches, eating a few good hits, grappling and tangling with any move they knew, it was fun. He scared himself by how much he was beginning to enjoy these ‘friendly’ competitions between his Swedish teammate and himself. 

It was never about showing he could dominate, maybe the first and second time it was, until Gunnar started to fight back wholly with everything he had, it became a display of equivalence, how he could defend himself with as much energy and enthusiasm despite his size or lack of weapons. Unable to stop himself, he bit at an unmarked area of skin under the Swede’s chin, drawing out a groan instead of a snore, he took two handfuls of blonde hair and pulled back the head until all visible skin was exposed to him. He sucked hard, drawing skin into his parted lips and working a blush into the tender layer of flesh, and the impossible happened, he subconsciously began rubbing himself through his cargos against Gunnar’s abdomen. He left his elbows anchored above the Swede’s underarms to keep himself balanced atop the torso, he pulled pinches of skin through his teeth, tugging slightly before brushing his tongue against the neat reddened lines. 

Lost in sensation and pressure against his lips, his body dipped in long strokes down and across Gunnar’s midsection, friction making his body jump to life the more he indulged in pressing himself harder, his mouth working along the short-stubbled jawbone. His fingers stroked lazily in the thick, pale hanks, his fingertips lightly skimming along the scalp, he exhaled deeply, a resounding hum erupting from his throat the more he lingered against the long torso. He tentatively brushed his chest against the other, the places their bodies touched tingled warmly, he then rocked his whole body down, ending their strokes with his groin pressed against the snoozing torso. He pressed back far enough to bump against the prominent lump of Gunnar’s hard-on, he stopped dead and looked over his shoulder, he blinked a moment and flushed in realization what he just caused. 

“Yang?” Gunnar asked in amazement, all signs of sleep wiped away as he glanced back to his teammate. 

“You were awake!” Yin Yang assumed harsly more than questioned, he sat up to roll off and possibly to strangle the man, but was instead stopped by two vice-like hands on his hips. 

“It’s ten,” the Swede quietly declared the time visible on a still open laptop CPU, the usual sarcastic tone was also not on menu since he confusedly added, “Was I not supposed to be?” 

A barrel tip pressed against Yin Yang’s back, he twitched in reflex, Gunnar pressed harder and whispered, a challenge sharpening his tone, “C’mon.” 

At a loss for what his Swedish teammate was asking of him, he stared hard down at the torso laying beneath him, of all the ways his eyes could sternly glare with an unsaid word on his lips, ‘No. No. No. No! No! Fuck you, No!’ Gunnar shamelessly made up his mind for him, left hand still on his hip, the large right palm cupped his spine and pulled him down, their lips so close he could imagine a firm weight against his lips. Their warm breath lingered between the supple shapes, the Swede teasingly brushed their open mouths, so quickly that Yin Yang lost his bearings on their withheld lust, the years of sociable anger, how they were always so close, yet not enough to examine each other’s physical textures or bodily tastes. He growled deep behind his throat, bringing a sensual chuckle forth from his comrade, he twisted the blonde tendrils in his hands, winding strands through his fingers as he sensed control given back to him. 

Yin Yang savored the moment where his teammate brought the gun back into their line of vision, he glanced at the long moonlit barrel once on the silencer and heard the clicked on safe button, tossing the piece to some corner. The hand instead trailed along his tensed biceps framed around his own face, over the olive-toned shoulder, sneaking a finger into the undershirt to touch warmly against a dip of toned pectorals, Yin Yang unconscientiously leaned down and bit lightly down on the edge of Gunnar’s lower lip. His Swedish teammate reacted to the playful nip, brushing his tongue over the skin pressing against his lip gently, a large palm brushing through his dark hair, thumb trailing along his pronounced eyebrow, index and middle finger swirling in longer black strands. 

Gunnar felt his counterpart melt into his body, relaxed muscle tensing into hard, compact knots as their torsos met, he groaned as Yin Yang sucked only the very edge of his lower lip, years of complicated desire seeming only to drive him further into madness. He watched as the slighter man met his gaze, their eyes holding and sharing, conflicting between what they felt, what their bodies wanted, and why they couldn’t stop while they still hadn’t lost themselves in each other. Gunnar then trailed from the dark hair to the smooth skin of Yin Yang’s partially exposed shoulder blades, he drew his fingers along the compact combination between sinew and dormant tendons, a shiver and vibrating rumble broke under his fingers as he closed his hand loosely around olive-toned neck. With his left hand, he tugged on the slighter man’s belt buckle, he pinched the top and bottom latches until it clicked free, he snapped off the button and unzipped as far as the cargos allowed. 

Yin Yang let the reddened lower lip slide free from his teeth, his voice fluttered from his tongue before he could stop himself, he felt Gunnar’s palm cup him and gently squeeze. His fingers still entwined in the blonde strands, he felt lips ascend and press against his trembling ones, and the sensation was new, almost odd, but different. They found themselves paused, merely sharing the warm pressure of their touching lips, and warm air as he haltingly inhaled, both beyond their comfort levels of entrusting their bodies to one another, the two waited for the other to land a punch, swear a profanity, anything to show how their violent streaks would repeat until one or the other was defeated. 

Hesitating enough, Gunnar dove up into the unsure kiss, his hands reaching behind the slighter form and tearing the undershirt away, baring Yin Yang’s graceful form. His hands passed over the flexible coils of wiry muscle lining along his comrade’s back, passing through the hard dipping planes of a bowed-forward spine, to his tailbone and clamping suggestively over his upper thighs, he felt a minute flash of strength as they lifted and settled more fully on either side of his ribcage. The slighter man pulled away, saliva coating their lips, his brown eyes blinking apologetically down at the hazed blue ones. 

“I still need to walk tomorrow,” he whispered, his voice no longer quick or edged with a close-kept confidence in minding his surroundings, he pushed himself up and laid his cheek over the clothed shoulder, “Sorry.” 

The Swede pressed his lips above the small ear in gratitude of how the rare notion of honesty was touched upon him, let alone an apology, he kissed again on the shoulder, he was ready to tear his friend off and have his way, but he knew they invested years of trust in the leap of faith they took only moments before; he said low, “I should be sorry. I’m the one who woke up with a boner.” 

“That was my fault, Gunnar,” Yin Yang said, his face once more in view, the diffident expression on his face speaking volumes instead of remaining silent and fiercely resigned as per usual, which was what he was trying to get past. 

“You can do yourself, I won’t look, ‘kay,” his Swedish teammate answered to him, he sensed a reluctant tone in his voice, he wrapped an arm around the thick neck and pushed off the ground until they both sat face to face, his arms wrapped around the wide chest as if conveying desperately that he didn’t want to leave, much less snap one off alone, the lust-deepened voice caressed his ears, “Want me to finish you?” 

Yin Yang gazed up, his thankful expression outweighing the nonchalance in his words, “If you want.” 

Gunnar kissed his brows softly, wide left palm splaying against his lower back and right hand slipping into his boxer briefs, he jolted in the Swede’s hand, swelling and twitching before he could show a sense of control over his body. He bit his lip to keep from whining or whimpering, he groaned behind his tongue, holding his friend’s barricade-like body as close as he could stand not to have. The hand made a loose fist around his length, he buried his face inside Gunnar’s bulletproof vest and visible collar, he sat at a loss with how to act in a situation as such. His comrade began nibbling ever so torturously slow on his naked shoulder, punctuating his skin with bites and a soft touch of tongue glossing along his flesh. 

“Gunnar,” Yin Yang whispered against the clothed collarbone under his trembling lips, his voice sure, filled with need beyond anything mutual that they had both retained leading up to their circumstance, he gasped more slowly, feeling the fist begin a gradual rhythm, “-Gunnar.” 

“I’m here, Yang,” Gunnar assured him softly, once more upping the tempo, he felt the left hand grip his right knee and arrange it under his strength-sapped body, then reaching to his left leg to do the same, the palm went to cup under his ass. 

He shuddered uselessly as Gunnar lifted him and let him down while he kept his loose grip working, making him fuck his fist, Yin Yang gained his bearings and held on to the bulletproof vest, his hips bucking in shallow thrusts against his teammate, he murmured into the stiff flack jacket, “-Gunnar!” 

“I’m right here. It’s okay, Yang,” he breathed quietly into his comrade’s short hair, tightening his grip on Yin Yang as he bucked harder into his hold, he smiled and licked the sweat misting off the slighter body, he nipped nonsense patterns and again gripped the firm ass bouncing in his lap, he groaned inwardly whilst thinking about if they got back to the States early for a few days alone, “Damn.” 

Yin Yang’s movements stuttered, he blindly searched out Gunnar until their lips met, their explorations fearless as he allowed his teammate’s tongue into his mouth, the wet organs lapping shyly through slightly parted lips. Gunnar crushed their bodies together, his fist tightening, precum dribbling down in between his fingers. The slighter man shoved himself up and down desperately into his friend’s palm, his breathing coming in incoherent gasps of the Swede’s name, over and over he whispered until he lost himself rutting shamelessly on the long torso, his body aching with tense fatigue, his body no longer belonging to himself. 

“Gunnar!” his lips muffled by the bulletproof vest, he bucked forward helpless to his own consuming pleasure, a heat swallowed him whole, spinning his senses out of control, making him spill inside Gunnar’s hand. 

The Swedish teammate laid Yin Yang gently down back on the blankets, he stared at the stickiness coating his fingers, a small voice asked, “Should I do the same?” 

“I don’t think so, Yang,” Gunnar replied sadly, even though he was hard and riled up enough to give himself a good tug before he came, he thought it cheapened the encounter if he tried to cheat himself out of a better orgasm, one that he planned to wait teasingly and patiently for; he chuckled to his friend who was still riding post-orgasmic waves, “Maybe later, huh? Preferably when I’m awake? And alone?” 

Yin Yang sat up and took the come-dripping fingers, he sucked each finger clean and licked the digits as an afterthought, Gunnar moaned quietly, “Fuck!” 

“How do you do it, Yang?” he asked after a while they sat staring at each other, he leaned in and captured the salted mouth with his own, tasting everything he could only describe as Sex, he lapped at the mouth and whispered a breath’s space away, “How can you turn me on?” 

“Luck,” Yin Yang answered, tongue darting out to a tiny white bead on Gunnar’s lip, “Not skill.” 

“Real funny, Confucius,” the Swedish member said, he wrapped his arms around the other and didn’t care if he was getting beyond friendly with his comrade, “C’mere.” 

“I don’t give a flyin shit what they say, Yang,” he stated, pulling back from the smaller warm body, Yin Yang looked up blankly, his expression partially readable but easily mistaken for pensive, “I want to know what you’re thinking.” 

“Confused,” Yin Yang answered. 

“About?” he asked. 

Yin Yang blinked several times, the air laying thick about them as he let the silence stretch further than calling crickets, “Why we never get along.” 

“You two make bloody delightful music! Now go to fucking sleep!” Christmas shouted from across the room, the two expected as much and only helped in prompting for Yin Yang to get a new shirt on. 

Gunnar rifled in a pack and found a black zip-up long sleeve, he handed it to Yin Yang who proceeded to put it on, he jokingly added, “Can’t argue with the chav’s logic, Yang.” 

Christmas tossed a thin blade, catching Gunnar in the sole of his boot, the Brit said dangerously, “Next is your dick, lover boy,” he nodded to Yin Yang and turned around to get back to his sleeping space, “ G’ Night.” 

“Keep it in your pants, Christmas, damn!” Road complained from the ruckus. 

“What next? A piss-measuring contest?” Billy asked sleepily and continued to quietly snore. 

“Good! - Night!” Barney shouted, ending the conversation for the time being. 

“ ‘Night…crazy fuckers,” Caesar muttered half from sleep. 

\---

…a few weeks later…

“Legions of Hot, Sweaty-” Gunnar explained, getting into detail with what was on his mind while they were flying and piss bored a mile high. 

“What sized did they have? Double D’s? Wait, wait, triple G’s?” Road asked, his interest apparent and earnest as he tried to guess Gunnar’s fantasy, “Huge, monster Porn Star-Gs.” 

“Big asses? Long hair?” Caesar interrogated with as much concern. 

“What’re you dumb asses talking about?” Gunnar dropped his hands and gave an inquisitive expression to the two teammates, looking betwixt them both. 

“What are You talking about?” Christmas asked finally dropping his sharpening file and knife, he leaned forward knowing their favorite Swede’s mind was weighed down by something irrelevant, “This’s gonna be good.” 

“My dream, man,” Gunnar answered. 

“Must’ve been a wet one,” Christmas smirked, he leaned back and motioned with his blade, “Do tell, Gunnar.” 

“They all looked like this-” the Swede deviously smiled and pulled Yin Yang’s cap off his head, “-Ta-dah!” 

The atmosphere was almost too toxic to breathe as realization dawned on them all but Barney and Christmas, who knew something as such went down without the usual kicking and screaming, they only gave each other the knowing look as Yin Yang roused himself from sleep, his seat next to Gunnar’s. 

“Like Yin Yang?” Road asked disbelievingly, “We understand the ‘sexy Chinese’-bit, but why Yin Yang?” 

“He sorta rubbed off on me, I guess,” Gunnar grinned like he won the billion-in-one-chance-lottery as he ruffled Yin Yang’s hair, “Ain’t that right, little guy?” 

“Explains a Lot,” Billy nodded simply. 

“That’s the last time I listen to Gunnar,” Road leaned back and buckled himself back in. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> ...no disrespect to Jet Li or the entire crew, i fucking  <3 you guys!!! please don't kill me if i make your characters go boom-boom-Boom! XD


End file.
